Addicted
by SSJ-Alhazred
Summary: Spoilers for Spidey3: Eddie wants someone to know that it was never the power he couldn't give up, it was something else...


**Addicted**

_Alhazred - ssjDOTalhazredATgmailDOTcom - alhazredDOTlivejournalDOTcom_

Not for Profit work, based on _Spider-Man_ © Marvel Comics

-

Hey God, it's me again. It's Brock...Edward Brock? Junior?

I know...I know I really shouldn't be bothering you again, Sir...especially since you were really generous and answered my prayers once today already...you took the time to answer them and you did it in a way I couldn't possibly imagine, and definitely not in a way a mere mortal such as myself could ever repay you for.

I don't have much time, I realize how stupid I was, not two seconds ago. I realize that I'll be dead and gone in the _next_ two seconds, but I'm not going to ask you for another miracle like you already gave me. No, Eddie Brock does not ask for more favors when he squanders the first one.

Well, I suppose this is kind of a favor. But...the way I think of you, God...and please tell me if it's not okay to think of you and try to figure you out and stuff like that...the way I've always thought of you, this particular thing isn't really a favor, because it's something they always tell us you do without too much effort.

I have to ask you to forgive me.

I hope you don't hate me for failing...I know you gave me Venom because it was a little...well, _wrong_ of me to ask that you kill Peter. I wasn't thinking straight; I know better than that.

I know that you don't just up and _give_ stuff to people, you gave me Venom so I could put in the effort _myself_. I mean, all the effort in the _world_ would've gone to waste if scrawny little Me went after Peter without something to even the odds, right?

...right?

So...I hope you don't hate me...I tried, I really did. I don't know where I went wrong, it certainly wasn't Venom's fault...but either way, that's not what I'm asking you to forgive me for. God...if you _do_ hate me, I accept it. It's your right; you gave me what I needed and I failed. Simple as that, you know?

I know where I went wrong two seconds ago, though. I know why I'm about to die and I know that it's my fault. Oh, the stupid little orange bomb I thought I could catch will be the cause of my death, but it isn't responsible for the fact that I'm so close to my end.

My name is Edward Brock, Junior, and I have a problem. I'm...I'm an addict. I need you to forgive me, God...please, forgive my addiction, because it's the reason I'm about to sit before your judgment.

I'm not addicted to Venom, _per se._ Now, stick with me here, I know what you're thinking...'Eddie, you leaped for him after you _watched_ Peter throw the bomb, what could you _possibly_ be addicted to if not Venom?'

Er...um. Not that I know what you think, Sir. Just...if I were you, that's what I'd be thinking. I mean...I didn't mean I should be God or anything, just...

All I'm saying is, I know how this _looks._

The problem is, I'm addicted to love. Well...that's not specific enough. I'm addicted to _being_ loved. I just can't live without it. The only validation in my life is whatever anyone else will give me.

See, I was good at getting people to love me. I always thought that was a gift from _you,_ God. The ability to attain what it was I needed. Even if it meant sweet-talking Gwen so much that I could just...nudge her a little to the side when someone else might be paying attention to me without her holding a grudge later.

Even if it meant getting a little creative with Photoshop.

That's how I know Peter is just the guise that Lucifer uses to walk the Earth. Or the Anti-Christ. Maybe he's a little of both. Doesn't really matter one way or another, all that matters is; Peter came to take away what you gave me.

And he did.

I begged him, I _begged_ him and he just...smiled. He knew what he was doing...no more love for Eddie Brock, not once everyone knows that he's really the secret identity for the man known as "The Plagiarist." He turned me untouchable overnight.

So close...came so close, but the damned Goblin got in the way. Yeah, right. Like that scarred freak in the high-tech snowboard gear even looked like a goblin. I'll be honest, Sir...I'm kind-of hoping for brownie points on that one, slaying Beelzebub and everything.

Here's the thing...with Gwen gone, and with anyone who's ever picked up a newspaper having a major Hate-On for my guts...well. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what I have left, does it?

Peter is such an idiot. He thinks I like the power, and that's what he'll tell himself so he can sleep at night, that poor little Eddie was such a scrawny geek that he couldn't bear to have his _power_ taken.

Venom is so much more to me than a tool. Venom is _love._ Wearing him is like wearing a patch like smokers do, only so much better. Patches help you quit; Venom helped me _live._

You know what makes it really cool? He doesn't judge me. He loves me unconditionally. He loves me for _who I am._ I know there's always some debate if that's how _you_ feel about your children, Sir...but with Venom, there's no debate. It's like...it's like you're wrapped around me, holding me in your own arms.

Well, that's it. That's why I couldn't stop myself from going back. The embrace he gives me is nothing short of wonderful...as wonderful as it is _terrible_ when Peter pulled..._ripped_ me away. A part of me thinks it's worth it, if it means I can feel just a little of your love one more time, for one more second...

Man, if I were one of those hoighty-toighty Creative Writing majors in school instead of a journalism student, I'd probably see all kinds of weird symbolism or subtext or whatever. But I am who I am, and I'm nothing without Venom.

Nothing.

So, you see, that's why I had to try and save him, somehow. I wish I could say it's because I owed him the effort, a debt repaid for what Venom gave me every second we were bonded. I'd be lying, though...it was sheer, unrelenting fear, the fear that I would have to live without him.

And as he takes me into his embrace one last time, as you take me into _yours,_ I can't help but think...it was worth the try. Just to feel it, to feel _loved_ one last time, for one...last...second...it's...so...

...totally...

...worth it.

The light Peter sees when the bomb goes off must be different than the light _we_ see. We're on our way now, and it's all up to you at this point, Sir. Wherever we go, there we'll be.

Please forgive me...


End file.
